A travesty, within a travesty, wherein the truth can no longer find refuge within the construct of a paradox. Are we to be governed by readers who cannot read, writers who cannot write, and publishers who only know how to pander to the ideologue? I say, “Narcissism Matters”. Narcissism matters, it really does. The printed and spoken the word not so much.
When to give rise to reason is abhorrent, when we genuflect to the ignorant and cruel, and when we no longer know how to love, then it’s only the “Poet” who can save us. Leaving another travesty within a travesty, the last “Poetic Lover”, with no one left to hear, read, and feel the gravity of her words.